


that would be enough

by HuiLian



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, vomitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 07:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20336740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/pseuds/HuiLian
Summary: Damian was not sick. He was not.It didn’t matter that he felt like vomiting both his dinner and his before patrol snack. It didn’t matter. Gotham needed Batman, and Batman needed Robin. So Damian was not sick. Not at all.





	that would be enough

**Author's Note:**

> i was sick yesterday and needed something to boost up my spirits, so here's a little sick! Damian with a protective Dick.   
title from Hamilton. it doesn't make sense, i know.

Damian was not sick. He was _not_.

It didn’t matter that he felt like vomiting both his dinner and his before patrol snack. It didn’t matter. Gotham needed Batman, and Batman needed Robin. So Damian was not sick. Not at all.

Even though the armor that Damian wore felt like stabbing into his skin and the cold Gotham night air felt freezing on the parts that are not covered by the armor, Robin still flies with Batman. Because that was what Robin does. Damian _knew_ that that is what Robin does.

Damian thought he had done quite well. He managed to keep his façade of health well into the patrol with his show of being normal. He still put up enough force in his attacks to almost be on the _that_ side of lethal. It is what he _did_. Besides, those kinds of attacks made the so-called bad guys didn’t go back up for another go. It’s efficient. It’s what it takes to cover Batman’s back. Even though Damian could practically feel his strength dwindling after each attack, he persisted, because it was what he normally do, and right now, he was as normal as he could be, and _not _sick.

Grayson had given him several odd looks, but thankfully, Damian’s normal is not everyone else’s normal. Grayson periodically gave him odd looks throughout their entire tenure as Batman and Robin. It’s nothing.

Or at least, it was nothing until a thug managed to land a hit to Damian’s unprotected stomach.

Sloppy. An amateur’s mistake. Mother would have Damian’s ears if she could see what just happened. And then force him to undergo trainings to rectify that mistake.

“Robin!” Damian could hear Grayson shouting. Then he could hear the thuds that must mean Grayson was plowing down the thugs to get to Damian.

Damian would have told him that there was no need, that he could take care of himself, if he wasn’t suddenly filled with nausea. It turned out that it was not just his dinner and his before patrol snack that Damian vomited. It was also his lunch, because Damian did not eat that much at dinner, and the vomit that come out is very large in volume. _Very _large.

Silence. There was no sound from either the thugs they were fighting or from Grayson. Damian felt another wave of nausea hit him, and he vomited again. _What_ was it that he vomited? He hadn’t eaten this much all day.

A hand was rubbing his back, while another was on his shoulders. Gauntleted hands. _Batman_ hands. Damian wanted to push him away, to tell him that he had this under control, but the hand rubbing his back felt so nice that Damian couldn’t help but lean in into the touch.

After this round of vomiting was finished, Grayson gently turned Damian around to face him. He crouched down, and wiped Damian’s mouth with a cloth he conjured from his belt. Then he gave Damian a bottle of water to rinse his mouth with. _How_ did he manage to keep all of that in his belt?

Throughout it all, Grayson stayed silent. Damian didn’t know if he was grateful that Grayson didn’t treat him like some _child_ they had rescued on the streets, or if he was disappointed in the lack of Grayson’s comforting voice. Gotham’s villains might have something to fear in the Batman, but the children on the streets? They were never afraid of Batman. They never _had_ anything to fear from the Batman.

Damian returned the water bottle to Grayson after he had finished rinsing his mouth. Grayson mentioned for him to drink the rest of the water there. Damian complied. Then Grayson crouched down‒It used to be a disgrace, to be so short that Grayson had to crouch down to meet his eyes. It was not anymore‒ and look at Damian in the eye. “You good to go?” he asked.

Even though his stomach felt like it still had another round of vomiting in store, even though his skin felt like needles were all over them, and his head felt like it just wanted to burst open, Damian still said, “Yes.” It was what Robin would have done, after all. Robin would not let such a measly thing as a sickness to hold him back.

Grayson looked at him, and gestured for Robin to move to the Batmobile. Robin followed. He wanted to put up his habitual arguments to be allowed to drive the Batmobile, but he was just so tired. Hopefully Grayson would just think that Damian is finally done with arguing that.

Grayson started up the car, and drove. Damian figured that it was safe enough for him to rest his head to the windows of the Batmobile. He would be ready to resume patrol when Grayson had reached his destination, but for now, he can rest his throbbing head to the pleasantly cool windows of the Batmobile.

***

“Damian?” A hand on Damian’s cheek, gently tapping it. “Damian, come on, wake up.”

“Hnn.”

“Damian, it’s better for you to sleep upstairs.”

Sleep? Upstairs? When had he fallen asleep? And why is Grayson calling him Damian, not Robin? Are they not still on patrol?

“Damian, come on. Or do you want me to carry you?”

_That_ got Damian to wake up. And the sight that greeted him was Grayson’s face, with the cowl lowered behind him. A quick look around confirmed that they are now in the Bunker.

“Why are we in the Bunker?”

Grayson smiled. “You were sick. I wasn’t going to keep going on patrol if you’re sick. Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”

No! No, no, no. Damian was not sick. He was not. This was precisely what he didn’t want to happen! “I’m not sick, Grayson. We can resume patrol!”

A sigh. And a laugh? Why would Grayson laugh about this?

“Fooling Batman about not being sick to patrol is a fine Robin tradition, Damian. But Batman always figured it out in the end. Come on, up you go. Alfred is already making tea in the penthouse. Then we’ll pile up all the blankets and sleep, okay?”

Damian wanted to protest again, but the promise of Pennyworth’s tea is enough to entice him. So Damian let himself be guided out of the Robin suit, and into the comfortable sweats that Grayson bought for him. Then he and Grayson rode up the elevator to the penthouse.

“How did you notice I am sick?” Damian asked. The tip could be useful for his next attempt in fooling Batman.

“Oh, finally admitting you’re sick, aren’t you?” Grayson chuckled. “Beside the fact that you vomited in the middle of patrol? You were cranky all day. Well, crankier. And…”

“And what, Grayson?”

“I’m not gonna tell you, Little D. You’ll just use it to escape my notice another time.”

Damn it. Grayson must have caught on to Damian’s line of thinking, because instead of chuckling, he full on laughed this time.

“Why are you laughing at your sick brother, Master Dick?” Pennyworth’s voice rang out from outside of the elevator.

Damian would have laughed at the expression on Grayson’s face if his throat was still not too scratchy from the vomiting he had done earlier. “Umm, I…,” Grayson stammered. Pennyworth gave Grayson a glare that would have put the so-called Batglare to shame.

“Come now, Master Damian. There is tea in the kitchen, with some broth for you. I believe it will calm down your stomach a bit.”

“Thank you, Pennyworth.”

“You’re welcome, Master Damian. Now, come. It would not do to let the tea cool more than it already has.”

Damian walked into the kitchen, and drank the tea Pennyworth had so thoughtfully put into cups. It was laced with ginger and honey, the perfect kind of tea to stop his nausea from getting worse. The broth that Pennyworth made, while usually is too bland for Damian’s taste, was very excellent in calming his stomach down. Pennyworth even put some spice in the broth that made Damian felt warm from the inside. Even his throat didn’t feel too scratchy anymore.

After he had finished all both the tea and the broth, Damian continued to sit down in the kitchen, letting the sound of Pennyworth’s cleaning lull him to sleep.

A hand lifted Damian’s body from the kitchen chair he found himself asleep in. Grayson’s hand. Damian woke up the moment the hand touched his body, but it was nice to pretend to be asleep so that Grayson could carry him to his bedroom. Besides, the softness of Grayson’s clothes was such a far cry from his armor that Damian’s skin didn’t even tingle anymore.

Grayson laid him down, not on Damian’s bed, but on Grayson’s own bed, and then covered him with blankets. It was warm, both because of the pile of blankets on Grayson’s bed, and because of the remnant of Grayson’s own body heat. He must have kept his promise to pile up all the blankets, because Damian distinctly remembered that some of the blankets use to be on Damian’s own bed.

“Damian? I know you’re awake.”

Damian just hummed in response.

“I know I said that pretending you’re not sick to continue patrolling is a Robin tradition, but next time you’re sick, tell me, okay? I don’t want to have to watch you vomit like that on patrol again.”

Damian hummed again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. B would have… You shouldn’t force yourself to patrol while you’re sick, okay? Come on, answer me, Damian.” Grayson’s voice, while still gentle, had taken on a terse tone.

“I’ll tell you next time, Grayson,” Damian said.

“Okay. Okay.” Grayson stoke Damian’s hair. It felt nice. “Tell me next time, do you hear that, Robin?”

“Roger that, Batman,” Damian said, and then he. Slept.

**Author's Note:**

> i almost put the summary just as sick! Damian. That's it. That's the fic. 
> 
> check out my tumblr (huilian.tumblr.com)


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